


Afternoon in the Halls

by Scattered_Irises



Series: Saffrons in the Palm of Your Hand [5]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Zexal
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Ending to the Illusion of Reunification, Disturbing Themes, Forced Feminization, Forced Marriage, Forced Pregnancy, Hey what's Yuzu doing here, Misogyny, Rape, Strangulation, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 13:30:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19724641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scattered_Irises/pseuds/Scattered_Irises
Summary: It begins with a moment between parent and child. And it ends with a confession. In the frigid halls of Carnation Valley, Kaito slowly walks down the carpeted floors to his husband's study. His shoes make no sound, but he can hear his blood roaring in his ears. He hates that place. It is where he is summoned whenever Byron is displeased. And Byron is never gentle with his punishments, even when Kaito is carrying his potential heir.Somewhere, Christopher would hear his screams. And somewhere he would remain, as unmoving as a statue.





	Afternoon in the Halls

**Author's Note:**

> I told you, Rainy Nights was merely a buildup episode.

“Which one?” asks Kaito as he shows Marleen the case of ribbons in the maid’s hands. 

Marleen’s golden eyes blink with curiosity. As her eyes scan the array of ribbons, they keep on returning back to a pair of sky blue ribbons. After a moment of contemplation, she points to them. 

“This one,” she says. 

“And…?” prompts Kaito. 

“Please,” she mumbles.

With a nod, Kaito takes the ribbons and begins to brush out his daughter’s hair. The maid behind him begins to laugh. Kaito smirks in return and briefly turns to the maid. 

“What is it, Yuzu?”

“You would be the last person I’d expect to teach a child manners,” laughs the pink-haired girl. 

Kaito resumes running the brush through Marleen’s blonde locks. 

“Well maybe it’s because I don’t want her ending up like me,” retorts Kaito. 

“Whenever I hear you apologize or say “thank you,” I always become worried that you’re ill,” quips Yuzu. 

“You should,” agrees Kaito. “I don’t say ‘thank you’ as a personal rule of mine. But that’s no excuse for my daughter to end up like me.”

The two laugh, quickly joined by Marleen’s chortle, although she has no idea what she’s laughing at. Kaito looks down at his daughter and carefully ties her hair in twin tails, careful not to pull too hard. As he loops the ribbons around her hair, he thinks back to Haruto. The last time he had seen him, he was so... _grown_. He was no longer the little boy that snuck caramel from Kaito’s desk and played hide-and-seek in the woods. From the way he carried himself to the way he spoke, Kaito knew that Haruto would no longer be satisfied by such things for long. At 10 years old, he was helping their father out at the lab on a weekly basis. It wouldn’t be long until he was shown how to perform the equations needed to calculate the basics of a dimension. Then he would be allowed to use the more complicated machines. The maps. Someday, he could even explore if he wished to. 

A pang fills Kaito’s heart as he wishes he could be there for his brother. Although Haruto continued to look at him with the same awe and admiration as when they were younger, the past few years had added an air of doubt to his gaze. Someday, Haruto would discover the truth between his amazing “sister” and her “husband.” How he longed for Haruto to call him _niisan_ again instead of _neesan._ But telling him to do so would make him suspect things even more. A small part of him wants to tell Haruto everything, but he knows that it would only cause harm in the long run. _Especially if Byron found out._

“There. Done,” says Kaito as he ties off the second sky blue ribbon. 

Marleen slowly slides off her seat and peers closer at her reflection. She smiles and turns around to hug Kaito. 

“Thank you, momma,” she burbles. 

“You’re very welcome. Now turn around so I can see how nice you look,” instructs Kaito with a smile. 

His daughter beams and turns around, her skirts in her tiny hands. Her twin tails fly about and her pristine blue dress flutters as she spins. 

“I Neptune!” cheers the toddler as she falls into Kaito’s arms. 

Kaito holds Marleen in his arms, feeling her laughing into his chest. She pulls away and puts her ear against Kaito’s round stomach. Her large golden eyes look up at him curiously. 

“Baby when?” she asks. 

_A kick in reply._

“Soon,” promises Kaito as he rests his hand on her head. 

The sound of the door opening is heard and all heads turn towards the sound. A maid with her head bowed curtsies. 

“Lady Arclight, your presence is requested in Lord Arclight’s study,” announces the maid quietly. 

A chill runs up Kaito’s back and he straightens his posture despite his noticeable stomach. Yuzu immediately recognizes her master’s discomfort and discreetly exchanges a look with Kaito. Swallowing hard, Kaito slowly turns towards the door. 

“I see. Tell him I will be right there,” he announces. 

The maid curtsies again and takes her leave. 

“Momma, don’t go..,” begs Marleen, a frown appearing on her face. 

Yuzu squeezes Kaito’s shoulder in reassurance. 

“It’s probably nothing,” she murmurs. 

Worry creases Kaito’s brow and he looks at Yuzu’s hair. Purple roots are beginning to show through her dyed pink. 

“Do you think he…?”

“No. I hope not,” says Yuzu quietly. 

Kaito pats Yuzu’s hand reassuringly. She then turns back to Marleen. 

“Now, how about we eat breakfast?” Yuzu asks cheerfully, masking her unease flawlessly.

Marleen nods her assent and Kaito quickly makes his way out of the room before her attention comes back to him. As he closes the doors of the nursery behind him, it takes all of his self control to not lean against the door and have a short rest. His hand instinctively flutters to his stomach as he begins his slow walk to Byron’s study. It would be nothing, surely. Byron didn’t bother him when he was carrying a child. _But I don’t get summoned to the demon’s lair for nothing_. When he is faced by the oaken doors, he slowly knocks three times. 

_Rap._

_Rap._

_Rap._

It was as if he was in Heartland Tower again, being summoned to Mr. Heartland’s office. He had hated that place with vehemence, with its too-bright lights and gaudy desk. The study was choked with photographs of Mr. Heartland and the various “awards” he had been presented with. Never had he met a man so obsessed with his own visage. 

“Enter,” calls his husband’s stately voice through the doors. 

Two maids pull the door open. Unlike Mr. Heartland’s office, Byron’s study had only three photographs. One of him as a young man with the previous Lady Arclight and their children. Michael had been cut out of the photograph, leaving a child shaped hole in the midst of the happy scene. The second was of him with Kaito and a two-weeks old Marleen. And the third was a large photograph of himself that hung intimidatingly over the fireplace. Everywhere Kaito went, the fierce golden eyes followed him. He hated how every detail of Byron was captured so perfectly in that portrait, from the way he looked down at the viewer to the way his lips were pressed thinly in disapproval. It had witnessed many of his defeats and punishments, yet its mood never seemed to improve. Just like Byron.

At Byron’s desk are a stack of ledgers, a jar of pens, a glass paperweight and a newspaper. Seated behind it is his husband, a cold expression on his face. The maids close the door behind Kaito and resume their positions beside the doors. 

“Kathryn,” greets Byron with an authoritative nod. 

Despite Kaito’s condition, he forces himself to curtsy low. 

“Husband,” he returns. _Never Byron_. For Kaito was below his husband as a wife. 

He stands again, allowing Byron to run his eyes over his body. 

“Has the third trimester proved troublesome for you?” he asks. 

Kaito’s back aches. His feet are swollen. Occasionally his breasts leak a milk-like substance. 

“No,” replies Kaito without a change in his expression. 

He’s about to say ‘peachy’ but he bites his tongue just in time. 

Byron nods in a facsimile of approval. 

“That’s good to hear. Have you been sleeping well?” 

When was the last time Kaito didn’t have black circles around his eyes? 

“As well as I can,” he replies. 

He still hasn’t been invited to sit down. Kaito tries to stifle the pit of dread at the bottom of his stomach. 

“Not well enough, it seems,” says Byron as his lips slightly curve into a frown. 

A moment of silence fills the study for a few moments. During that time, there is not a single shift in posture or expression from Byron. He merely runs his eyes across Kaito’s body, seemingly looking for an imperfection or flaw. Prickles run up Kaito’s back as he is examined like an insect under a magnifying glass. The moments of silence that pass by are counted by the pendulum clock at the back of the study. 

_Tick._

_Tock._

_Tick._

Without blinking, Byron utters one word. 

“Strip.”

Before Kaito can ask for clarification, he hears the maids behind him walk up to the desk. As the buttons are undone at the back of his dress, Kaito swallows hard. 

“What is the meaning of this?” asks Kaito, trying to keep the tremble out of his voice. 

“I want to inspect your body to see that you are in good health,” says Byron as he calmly watches Kaito get undressed. 

Kaito’s eyes turn to the large windows at the back of the study. Byron’s eyes follow his gaze. 

“No one will see. The windows are at the side of the room whilst we are in the middle,” reassures Byron. 

“This is about something else, isn’t it?” asserts Kaito, his expression darkening. 

Still, Byron’s expression remains unchanged. 

“I haven’t a clue on what you are insinuating, Kathryn.”

How Kaito hates that name. Allowing Byron to rename him was allowing him control. He should have had chosen his own new name after the surgery. Being named by the man he hated was equivalent to belonging to him. _Like a pet._

As the corset comes off, Kaito can feel his posture weakening. He had spent so long in those that he was no longer able to support himself for long, especially when he was with child. As his spine begins to weaken, he holds his arms out on Byron’s desk. Trying not to show weakness as his shift was removed, he bites his lip as his back begins to shake. 

“You may leave,” excuses Byron to the maids. 

With silent curtsies, the maids leave, closing the door behind them. _Bmp._ Another moment of silence fills the room as Kaito continues to hold himself up with his arms. Once again, he can feel Byron looking at him with his predatory eyes. 

“Stand, Kathryn,” commands Byron. 

Kaito clenches his fist and forces himself to stand straight. The shaking in his back resumes. Slowly, Byron slides out of his seat and begins to circle Kaito. 

“You’re shaking,” he notes. 

_I wonder why._ The urge to make a retort is overwhelming, but Kaito bites his tongue. 

“It’s the corset. I’ve been weakened because of it,” admits Kaito. 

“It was never easy, being beautiful,” murmurs Byron as he holds Kaito’s waist. 

At Byron’s touch, Kaito stiffens, back pain momentarily forgotten. Byron’s frigid hands crawl up Kaito’s sides, examining and prodding at his ribs. Once he has run up Kaito’s sides a few times, his hands go to Kaito’s chest and begins to examine the swollen breasts. They gently squeeze the flesh and Kaito bites his lip, praying that they don’t choose to leak at this moment. The hands squeeze and prod in a circular motion. Kaito avoids Byron’s eyes the entire time, instead focusing on his husband’s cravat pin. Without warning, his nipples are pinched and Kaito fights the urge to pull away. _Byron’s hands were so damn cold._

“They’re quite sensitive, aren’t they?” observes Byron as he continues to pinch. “That will prove useful in feeding.” 

“I thought you didn’t allow me to,” mutters Kaito. “That they were only for your enjoyment.” 

“After how much our daughter cried? I relent,” chuckles Byron as notices a thin trail of white liquid trickle from a breast. 

Kaito follows Byron’s gaze and raises a hand to wipe the liquid away. His hand is held back by one of Byron’s hands while the other travels down to his stomach. It remains there for awhile, until there is a kick. Byron smiles in satisfaction. He releases Kaito’s hand and slips his hand into the area between Kaito’s legs, exploring the folds. The chastity belt had been removed during the last three months of his pregnancy in order to accommodate for the child’s constant pressing against Kaito’s kidneys. He dreads the day that he must return to that device. As Byron’s fingers continue to slide against the moist flesh, the urge to scream builds in Kaito’s chest. As the fingers slide into him, he stiffens. Even in such a warm part of his body, Byron’s hand remained frigid. 

“It always amazes me how much these must dilate in order for the child to arrive,” notes Byron as he pulls out his slimy fingers. 

“It hurt like hell. I want pain medication this time,” demands Kaito. 

Byron’s smile immediately fades. 

“That isn’t how it’s done here,” he says. 

“The screaming is undignified,” snaps Kaito, unable to hold his anger back any longer. 

“It’s natural,” counters Byron. “And do you know what’s undignified? Allowing my wife to demand such things from me.” 

Kaito grits his teeth. 

“You don’t know what undignified is ‘til you’ve been chained to a bed n’ forced to carry your rapist’s child,” he hisses. 

“I am your husband,” growls Byron. “You belong to me.”

“Your mind may live in the 19th century, but it’s the 23rd century out here and I ain’t havin’ none of that,” seethes Kaito. 

Byron’s eyes narrow and anger fills his expression. 

“You need a reminder in etiquette. After all of these months, I have been far too lenient,” he begins. He circles Kaito and roughly pushes him onto his desk. 

Kaito’s eyes trail down to the newspaper on the desk. _The Heartlandian._ His eyes widen at the familiar Japanese characters. Byron parts Kaito’s legs and he stiffens. 

“Not only did he abandon his name, but he decided to insult us too,” growls Byron. “Bloody ingrate.” 

The article in front of him is an editorial. _Tsukumo Michael_ is listed as the writer and Kaito swallows hard. Behind him, Byron has unzipped his trousers. Kaito tries to push himself up, but his back shakes in protest. Panic begins to fill his chest as Byron grasps his hips possessively. 

“Read it,” commands Byron. 

Quickly, Kaito runs his eyes across the article. A cold sweat breaks over him as he reads. Michael had revealed everything. He was the one who had written the articles on the Resurrection. He was the one who had written about the screaming stepmother, only 20 years old and forced to bear her husband’s second brood of children. Within this article, he had revealed the stepmother to be Tenjo Kaito and the abusive husband to be Byron Arclight. A lump forms in Kaito’s throat as he remembers the day he had let Michael escape. He had known that the young man would have been able to tell his story. But now what? 

“You crafty bitch. You had known the whole time, didn’t you?” asks Byron as he slams Kaito’s face into the paper. 

The smell of ink fills his nose. Kaito prays that nothing is broken. When he is pulled away again, Kaito’s eyes remain focused on the article. 

“No. I merely told him to do what he thought was right,” replies Kaito, forcing himself to remain calm. 

Byron grabs a fistful of Kaito’s hair and once again slams him onto the desk. 

“You mean nothing. Do you understand? So don’t ever try to change that,” hisses Byron. “Heartland can’t save you. No one can. You belong to me now and _I_ am uncontested in this territory.” 

He enters Kaito without warning and begins to roughly thrust, his grip on Kaito’s flesh tightening into vices. Amidst Kaito’s screams of pain, Byron continues to speak. 

“You are nothing but livestock, meant to lie on your back and bear the next generation. That is all. You are a lump of flesh, useless until filled with my seed. And until you can give birth to a male, you will continue to be filled with seed. I will use you until you die because this is all that you are worth!” shouts Byron. “You are a broodmare and I will use you as such!”

Tears fill Kaito’s eyes and trickle down his cheeks. The newspaper’s ink blurs, erasing Michael’s words from his sight. Once again, the urge to die resurfaces in his chest, but he knows that he can’t, not until he can take Byron with him. As he is held down, he lets out a scream of pain as he feels his flesh tear. Byron withdraws and roughly turns him around. As Kaito is pushed onto the desk, he can see the glint of madness in Byron’s eyes and the sheen of frenzied sweat on his brow. Once again his legs are parted and he focuses on Byron’s face as he enters again. He’ll take him down to hell, if it’s the last thing he does. That man did not deserve to walk the earth. 

Byron grasps Kaito’s stomach, feeling the fervent kicks inside of him. 

“That better be a boy,” he hisses. 

“I hope you die,” returns Kaito. “You don’t deserve children.”

“A woman is only complete when her womb is filled,” snaps Byron. 

“I wish I had never agreed to this goddamn marriage. I wish I had never met you!” screams Kaito as Byron hits his cervix. 

Byron’s grip on Kaito’s stomach hardens. The kicking intensifies. As Byron’s motions increase, the sweat continues to accumulate on his brow.

“If _he_ says that I am a monster, then so be it!” 

“He’s only sayin’ the goddamn truth!” snaps Kaito. 

Byron’s hand flies to Kaito’s throat and squeezes. The burning madness in his expression intensifies. 

“Silence, you filthy whore,” seethes Byron. “You are my wife and you will behave as such.” 

He throws Kaito’s head onto the desk and resumes his iron grip on Kaito’s swollen stomach. 

“When my son comes out, I want you to remain silent. Don’t you _dare_ choose his name. You do that and I will beat you harder than when you gave birth to Marleen,” threatens Byron. “You are nothing but a womb.”

_Kick._

_Kick._

“I wish I had never agreed to the surgery,” spits Kaito. “I hate every wakin’ moment in this body that isn’t mine.”

“You have made your bed. And now you must lie in it,” Byron hisses. “You signed those papers yourself.” 

“‘Cause you burned half of my deck and were gon’ burn the other half if I didn’t!” shouts Kaito. 

Byron looks down at Kaito and notices more of the white fluid leaking from Kaito’s breasts. He grimaces in disgust. With one final rough thrust, he finishes inside of Kaito and pulls out. For a few moments, he looks down at Kaito’s tear stained face in disgust. A bit of his seed has trickled onto the newspaper and pooled upon the white and black print. Unable to look at Kaito any longer, he grabs the bundle of Kaito’s clothes and tosses it at him. With shaky hands, Kaito picks up the clothes. Weakly, he stands and feels Byron’s seed drip down his legs. 

“You’re a filthy whore. Leave my sight,” mutters Byron in disgust. 

“I’m taking you down to hell with me and will return all these years tenfold,” threatens Kaito in a low voice. 

Byron doesn’t grace his threat with a reply. Instead, he picks up the soiled newspaper and tosses it into the fireplace. Giving Byron one last withering glare, Kaito leaves through the heavy doors. As he walks through the halls naked, he sees Christopher slowly walking up the stairs. Before he can find a room to avoid him, their eyes meet and both freeze. What had happened to his beloved mentor? Christopher must have also been thinking similar things. He can see Christopher’s adamsappel bob as he swallows. Slowly, he resumes making his way up the steps and towards Kaito. 

“Kathryn..,” he begins quietly. 

“Just call me Kaito,” mutters Kaito as he tries to keep the tears out of his eyes. 

When Christopher is in front of him, he can see Christopher run his eyes across Kaito’s body, assessing the situation. _So much like his father_. But instead of being frigid, concern fills Christopher’s eyes. 

“Are you alright?” he asks timidly.

“What do you think?!” snaps Kaito as he tries to turn his tears into anger. 

“But he wouldn’t. You’re…”

“He _did._ ”

Taken aback, Christopher awkwardly extends his hands for Kaito’s clothes. Kaito turns away. 

“Save your half-assed gestures of pity for someone else,” he mutters as he heads into the bathroom. 

As Kaito slams the door behind him, he walks to the shower and turns on the water. Amidst the sound of the water running, he can hear Christopher’s small voice from the other side. 

“It’s not pity. I’m concerned for you,” murmurs Christopher.

Kaito almost wants to snap back at him. He throws the pile of clothes onto the floor and steps into the shower. As the water runs down his body, he pretends not to hear what Christopher had said and swallows his anger. 

“I’m just as horrified at my father’s actions as everyone else,” continues Christopher through the door. 

Clenching his teeth, Kaito increases the intensity of the shower. 

“But unlike my brothers, I have not left because...I’m worried about your well-being.” 

_Fssssh._ Kaito snaps open the shower lotion and steps away from the cascade of water. He feels filthy from Byron and Christopher’s blatant lies. Thomas had left because he was the sole heir to his maternal grandmother’s estate. He was now Lord Thomas Radcliffe instead of Arclight. Good for him, escaping this nightmare. Michael had left because he could no longer stand being witness to countless acts of horror. Now he was Michael Tsukumo, part-time chronicler of the crimes of Byron. And Christopher? A soon-to-be obsolete branch of the family tree once Byron had a son from Kaito. _They are no longer useful to me. It is better to start anew, now that I am a changed man,_ Byron had said once. Unlike his brothers, Christopher had nowhere else to go. He was pathetic. 

“I could be working at a lab faraway, investigating the mysteries of the universe,” says Christopher, as if he had read Kaito’s thoughts.

How very much like his mentor to know what his student was thinking. 

“But I choose to remain here because of you,” he finishes. 

Kaito can no longer remain silent. The tears fall down his cheeks, but when he speaks, there is no shaking in his voice. Only anger.

“Then why the hell did you never do anythin’ as he raped me n’ beat me?!” screams Kaito, his voice echoing across the walls. “Fuck you, Chris! Sincerely go fuck yourself! I have _had_ it with you bein’ a fuckin’ piece of furniture and doin’ nothin’! You’re no better than _him_!” 

He turns the shower to maximum, drowning most of Christopher’s voice out. 

“...powerless...father...denial…”

The few words that make it through the noise makes Kaito beat a fist against the shower’s tiles. 

“I wish you’d die!” screams Kaito. “I hate seein’ your face! You’re not the man I knew and you haven’t been for years! You’re already fuckin’ dead to me so you can go fuck yourself!”

He stands in the shower for an interminable length of time. There is no reply throughout the entire time and when Kaito is sure that Christopher has left, he turns off the shower. His eyes are swollen from crying and as the water trickles into his eyes, he can’t tell the difference between his own tears and the water. As the water drips down his legs, he takes a towel and dries himself. Wrapping it around his body, he steps out into the halls. 

At the side of the door is Christopher, a stoic expression on his face despite the tears on his cheeks. Kaito’s lip curls and he walks away. 

“Kaito,” calls Christopher softly. 

Despite his anger, Kaito turns around to the familiar voice and name. For a moment, it felt as if they were friends again. 

“I never came because I was too scared to. I was a bloody coward,” admits Christopher in a shaky whisper.

The confession stokes the flames of anger in Kaito’s heart and the feeling of warmth dissipates. 

“Just shut up and leave this house,” growls Kaito. 

“Please...I just want us to talk in my room,” appeals Christopher. “Like when...we were people.” 

A sardonic smile fills Kaito’s expression.

“And right now we’re not?”

“You know as well as I that we haven’t been living for the past few years,” says Christopher. “We have just been puppets.”

Kaito turns around and takes a step towards Christopher. 

“I don’t know who the hell you are anymore,” he says coldly. 

A frigid expression fills Christopher’s face, reminiscent of V’s. 

“Nor do I,” his mentor returns. 

He turns away and walks into his room, Kaito following him. When Christopher closes the door behind him, he motions for Kaito to sit and disappears into his closet. On his return, he throws Kaito a long coat. Looking down at the coat, memories fill Kaito’s mind and his expression hardens. 

“You abandoned me in this coat,” recalls Kaito. “You didn’t even say a single word when you did.” 

Draping it over his shoulders, Kaito looks up at Christopher, who has taken a seat in front of him. Sadness fills Christopher’s expression. 

“It was for father.”

He pauses for a few moments, recollecting his thoughts. 

“My life has always been dedicated to serving him. I know of nothing else,” confesses Christopher. 

Kaito looks at him with steely eyes. Yet Christopher does not flinch away. Hope sparks in Kaito’s chest. Perhaps his mentor was still in there somewhere.

“But there must be a breaking point,” presses Kaito. 

“Yes.”

“So why..?”

“There is no one to turn to here. In the Resurrection, my father is king,” says Christopher. “He is untouchable.”

“That’s not an excuse,” snaps Kaito, his eyes narrowing. 

A frigid expression fills Christopher’s expression and his voice comes out with an edge. 

“What can Heartland’s newly erected government do to this society of millionaires that have resided here since the 21st century?” asks Christopher coldly. 

Immediately, Kaito is taken aback. He purses his lips and looks down at the floor. 

“At least try to get international attention for—”

“This place is a bloody dystopia. Do you know how heavily checked things sent out to the Outside are? If it was that easy, there wouldn’t even be a Resurrection today.” 

“We can’t just keep on sitting here and allowing ourselves to be kicked around like this! I’m sick of being a piece of property!” shouts Kaito. “You know that my legal status as a woman disregards my voice in the court of law?! I’m like a child to your shitty government! I can’t even duel in public! And you know what?” 

Kaito stands, ignoring the aching in his back and the kicks. He throws the coat off of his body and then the towel. He sees Christopher flinch and he grimaces at him. 

“This thing matters more than I do,” he hisses as he motions to his stomach. “Once I’m forced to carry one of your father’s children, everything is about the child. I can’t even go out in my third trimester according to your customs.” 

“That’s merely a societal expectation, it isn’t—”

Christopher is silenced by Kaito’s glare. When Kaito sits down again, he drapes the towel over his body and leaves Christopher’s coat on the floor. It contained too many memories of a life that he had been forced to give up. A long sigh escapes from Kaito’s throat. 

“What happened to us?” he whispers. 

“I wish we had been happy with Tron,” blurts out Christopher. “The astralite concentration had been corrupted with barian energy, due to the two worlds merging. I had overlooked that fact, for we had desperately wanted our father back and...if I hadn’t ignored your father’s trepidations, we wouldn’t have been here.”

The confession doesn’t move Kaito at all. 

“Why did you grow distant after he married me?” 

“It’s because you’re _his,_ ” whispers Christopher.

_Like a piece of property._ Kaito curls his lips. 

“Is that all I am to you now? An object that belongs to your father? Does this body also disgust you?” 

Roughly, he throws the towel onto the floor again. Once more, Christopher flinches. The rage in Kaito’s chest flares across his body. Words, so many words fill his mind. Many had been left unsaid, left to fester and rot in the back of his mind. Now they had returned, bathed in rancor and simmering in hatred. His blood roars in his ears and he feels nothing but anger. Anger at this world for its injustices. Anger at himself for allowing himself to be enslaved to a monster. Anger at himself for shedding skin after skin, first the innocent country boy, then the warrior and then the final vestiges of his humanity. Anger at Byron. Anger at Chris. 

“Look at me! Fuckin’ look at me!” screams Kaito. “It’s still me! Still the same skin, still the same bones, brains and face!” 

_Skin that has been scarred by Byron’s cruel hands. Bones that were ground down in some places and added in some other places for a more feminine shape. A brain that had been cut open and slightly rewired to suit his new role in life. A face that had been under the knife to look more gentle and welcoming._ He hates everything Byron had done to him, but in the end, he is still Tenjo Kaito. Roughly, he grabs Christopher’s hand and forces it on his face. The shaking hand stiffens for a few moments and Christopher looks at him warily. 

“Touch me! _Hold my fuckin’ hand!”_ demands Kaito as he takes away Christopher hand and holds it. 

He feels Christopher’s hand wrap around his after a few moments and relief fills his chest. He grabs Christopher’s other hand and squeezes it. Tears sting his eyes and he blinks them away. There is nothing readable on Christopher’s face. 

“Am I still Kaito to you?!” he snaps. 

Looking up at him, Christopher slightly nods. 

“Of course you are.” 

“Don’t tell me what I want to hear! Be honest! I’ve had it with your blatant lies and Victorian manners!!” Kaito has screamed his voice raw, yet anger still fills him. 

So many years of suppressing such feelings are now released, threatening to take over.

“Yes. You’re Kaito!” shouts Christopher, his stoic mask cracking. Pain fills his expression, his lips trembling. 

He squeezes Kaito’s hands and stands, towering over him. His voice softens and he avoids Kaito’s burning stare.

“At first, I tried to separate you and Kathryn...but...it’s impossible. No matter what he does to you, you’re still Kaito.”

“Then why do you look at me as if I were a stranger?” asks Kaito, making sure every ounce of resentment could be heard in those words.

Christopher is silent for a few moments. Kaito wishes he could read his mentor’s thoughts, but Christopher’s expression remains stoic. He blinks slowly and his eyes trail down Kaito’s body. 

“Because it feels as if we are in a nightmare and that this world isn’t real. If I were to actually treat you like Kaito, you’d turn to dust and scatter. It’s better to pretend that the real Kaito is somewhere in Heartland instead of here, bearing the scars inflicted by a monster called Byron Arclight.” 

“Denial. It’s what you always do whenever things get difficult,” accuses Kaito, an edge to his voice. “You lock yourself away and then pretend that we’re all just pillars of sand and ashes. But we’re not. We’re still here. We’re still fuckin’ real, our sufferin’ jus’ as real as the moon’n stars. Wake up.” 

Pain fills his mentor’s expression. Releasing Kaito’s hands, he looks out the window. 

“It feels as if you’ve abandoned me again,” snaps Kaito. “My mentor Chris died and all that’s left is a shell.”

The pain deepens on Christopher’s face and the toll of living under his father’s iron fist is revealed in the form of a defeated expression. 

“Anything and everything can be turned against us here,” says Christopher quietly. “Even my love for you as my dearest friend.”

_Dearest friend._ The words bring a flicker of warmth to Kaito’s heart, although he suppresses it under a grimace. 

“I’ve cried myself to sleep and agonized over our situation during countless nights. But we can do nothing after that,” confesses Christopher. “There’s no point in being happy, nor feeling anything akin to happiness. He will only take it away in the next blink of an eye.”

Silence fills the room. In the afternoon light, Christopher’s room appears dated. The astronomy posters have curled at the edges, the paper fading. His bookshelves are covered in a thin layer of dust. At the edges of the room, the carpet has frayed. Although his sheets are folded, his pillows are unorganized. His curtains are tied back haphazardly, threatening to fall loose of its cord any moment. Atop his desk are a matter of charts, screens and machinery, yet they appear to be able to achieve very little. Amidst the silence, Kaito takes in a deep breath and slowly exhales.

His anger has receded to a mere ember again. It is ever present, but will not burn unless provoked. He has learned to live with this ember, allowing it to fuel his every action and word. The ember had helped him survive Heartland’s harsh training facilities. It had allowed him to take the souls of duelists, their screams for mercy falling on deaf ears. And it had helped him survive living with Byron. Now, it was one of the _only_ reasons why he could continue bearing to live here. It fueled the need to bring Byron down to hell with him, only allowing Kaito to give up once he had won the battle.

_Marleen._ Another reason to continue living. But Christopher’s words fill his mind. There was no point in possessing happiness, for it was weakness here. A pang fills Kaito’s chest. His mentor was right, though. Sooner or later, Byron would find a way to tear Kaito away from Marleen. Looking at Christopher’s contemplative expression, Kaito can’t help but think back to their days of youth. Often, he would catch Christopher in the midst of thinking, his face the same as now. His deep blue eyes would have stared off into the distance and his head turned towards the light. Elegantly sculpted eyebrows would be furrowed, creasing the area between Christopher’s forehead. His lips would always be slightly parted and his posture a bit more relaxed. Always, Kaito had wondered what Christopher was thinking whenever he made such an expression. 

It’s then that Kaito realizes he hasn’t seen Christopher look this young in years. Looking at Christopher for a few more moments, memories of their training days fill his mind. For a moment, he feels as if he knew the stranger in front of him again. 

“Do you still love me?” asks Kaito quietly. 

Christopher turns to him, his expression once again a frigid mask. A brief pang fills Kaito’s chest. _He’s_ _too afraid to ruin the dream. Too afraid to realize that this was reality. Too afraid to appear vulnerable._ His reply is quiet and removed of emotion. 

“Yes, although I wish I could say no.”


End file.
